Last May, the U.S. Supreme Court
ruled unanimously to let the feds shut down six California co-ops that
distribute medical marijuana in strict accordance with state law. Back
in 1996, Golden State voters overwhelmingly passed Proposition 215, allowing
doctors to prescribe pot to patients with severe, chronic pain. In effect,
the nation's highest court decided that state laws legalizing cannabis
for medical use weren't worth a dime bag.

In the aftermath of the May ruling,
patrons and proprietors of California's 50-odd medical marijuana clinics
waited anxiously to see whether the federal government would aggressively
crack down. In October, the federal Drug Enforcement Administration began
to answer that question. Agents surveilled or busted several co-ops, finishing
their tour with the Los Angeles Cannabis Resource Center, a West Hollywood
clinic that provided pot on site to 960 patients suffering from AIDS, epilepsy,
cancer, glaucoma, and other painful illnesses. Thirty armed federal agents
seized 400 marijuana plants, computers, financial documents, and medical
records.

On December 10, authorities informed
Scott Imler, the co-op's director and founder, that he would face a grand
jury on December 20. That court will decide whether to indict him for defying
the Supreme Court ruling, a charge for which he could face hard time.

"I don't want to whine or duck here,"
says 43-year-old Imler, his voice suggesting the bemusement of someone
who's facing up to 10 years in prison for helping sick people. "I knew
what I was getting into, and I'm prepared to take whatever responsibility
comes my way. But I would imagine…they're focusing on me because the minute
they raise the issue of conspirators, it would be a whole different kettle
of fish."

Imler is referring to the co-op's
wide swath of supporters. In addition to employing several staff members,
the Cannabis Resource Center was created with the close cooperation of
the city council and local law enforcement agencies. If the federal government
tries to hone in on "co-conspirators," it may well have to indict the entire
paid staff of the city of West Hollywood. (West Hollywood is an independent
city surrounded by Los Angeles.)

When I talk to Councilman Jeffrey
Prang on the phone, he's clearly exasperated. "Instead of contributing
to the war on terrorism, someone in Washington, D.C., thought it was a
good idea to send someone to raid the Cannabis Resource club. It defies
any sense of propriety—or priority."

Prang and the rest of the city council
have now passed a resolution stating that West Hollywood is a "sanctuary"
for medical marijuana. I ask Prang whether the move is purely symbolic.
"To the degree that local authority has any authority, people can count
on West Hollywood as a sanctuary. However, if the federal government chose
to come in, we are in no position to stand in their way."

The clash between federal and state
authorities is particularly irritating to Prang and other West Hollywood
residents. Until recently, residents of this liberal, trendy enclave primarily
understood the concept of "states' rights" as a concern of the extreme
right and kooky Confederate racists. Now the concept has new relevance.
But at the same time, the rhetoric of anti-drug right-wingers is seen as
even more vividly hypocritical than before.

"We have expressed our will" through
state and local laws, says Prang. "Yet the federal government believes
it's extremely important to spend time and money cracking down on sick
people."

Elsewhere in California, co-ops continue
to treat the patients who depend on them amid growing uncertainty. Says
Reverend Lynnette Shaw, founder of the Marin County Alliance of Medical
Marijuana, "Mostly, we're all very worried on behalf of the patients. If
the DEA closes everybody, it will throw all those patients back into the
arms of the gangsters. And that's exactly what the gangsters want. So in
a sense, the DEA is working for the gangsters."